Fair One
by Tygerlilee
Summary: Quatre, now a savvy CEO of his father's corporation, is just trying to survive and ignore a certain female, while an unknown is trying to rise in the ranks of the world...


Fair One

By Tygerlilee

Chapter One

The REALLY BAD Day

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing or any of the characters. I'm not making any profit.

The middle-aged woman turned from the wall-to-wall files and glanced at the clock. It was six, time to go home.

She walked over to her desk, switched of the computer, picked up her purse and coat, and turned to leave when he heard soft footsteps from down the hall. She rolled her eyes and strode in the direction of the noise, then knocked sharply on the door.

"Enter," and distracted voice answered.

The woman unceremoniously pushed open the door. "Mr. Winner, it's six," she sighed upon taking in the rumpled room. Mr. Winner was generally organized and meticulously clean, but when he started working on something serious, all that flew out the window. The large oaken desk was scattered with notebooks and loose papers, which appeared to have soared out of the fax machine on a table behind the desk. The massive bookshelves were cluttered and where certain books had been relocated to the floor, random notes had been taped up. Mr. Winner himself was barefoot and pacing, hair rumpled from his fingers running through and through, and he was chewing on a pen while staring at the bookshelf-notes. 

Mr. Winner nodded indistinctly in acknowledgement. "I'll see you tomorrow Ms. Yates."

"Mr. Winner, don't you think you should go home some time? You haven't left this room in three days!"

"And you have been watching?"

"You've a three-day beard."

"Oh. I'll go home soon. Don't worry. Have a good night!" he said pleasantly, though absently.

Ms. Yates growled softly under her breath. "Mr. Winner, I know full well that you have absolutely no intention what-so-ever of leaving this office until you have this whole mess figured out. But did you take into account the fact that your body requires sleep and food to function normally and that the lack thereof might be hampering your abilities?"

Mr. Winner turned and looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "You may be right. I promise I'll get some sleep. Is that better?" 

Ms. Yates sighed–Mr. Winner always kept his promises. "Yes, that is good enough for me. Good night, Mr. Winner."

"Good night, Ms. Yates."

Quatre turned his attention back to the post-it notes scattered around his office the moment he heard the door click shut. He had to figure out what to do–and it wasn't coming. Since his father's death, the board had taken over the company until he was old enough to inherit, and they had not done the best job with it either. Quatre had had to work 24/7 for several years to get the corporation up and moving in a semblance of organization and productivity. Of course, the fact that he was inexperienced and fresh from college was not much help–every one always underestimated him. But now, seven years later, he had the company to the level that is had been in the prime of his father's "reign". And so he could relax and reduce his hours and let things go a little bit, right? EEIN!! WRONG!! He had been so stupid and naïve to think that life and the company would get simpler and easier

He yanked out another wad of blond hair and flopped onto the floor, his forehead creased and eyes bleary from lack of sleep. 

Somewhere, while he had been taking it easy, ESS–Earth Simulating Systems--had jumped up and was currently attacking the Winner Corp. from all sides. Their water wasn't up to standards, the weather wasn't correct, this and that. But he had checked, and rechecked and they had passed all the tests–or so he thought. But then the ESS ran some tests and found that they had slipped--the water, somehow, was not up to the level it should be at, and there were contaminants in the air. But they tested it once a month to make sure it was up to par! How come the ESS tests were so low? Maybe someone was being lazy and not actually testing things? Maybe the quality had fallen dramatically within a week? ARGGG!! He was so frustrated!!

Maybe Ms. Yates was right, he did need some sleep. But he didn't have the time. He was having a press conference tomorrow at noon, in which he would have to answer to all the accusations, and he had to have a solution for everything. And one wasn't coming.

He walked over to his desk, pulled out the plush leather chair, settled down, rested his clasped hands on the top and buried his face in his hands to clear his head momentarily. Half a minute later, however, he was soundly asleep.

Clicking heelsrunning waterhe could feel the lights. Puffy eyed, Quatre sat up and rubbed them, letting them adjust to the light his lids had allowed in. He glanced down at his watchten o'clock. Then he jumped up. "TEN O'CLOCK!! CrapI fell asleep"

He was still muttering and walking in fast circles, ripping out hair when Ms. Yates entered his office. "Mr. Winner! I thought you said you'd go home!"

"I said that I'd get some sleep, I just didn't say where!" Quatre defended himself quickly. "Ms. Yates, I just can't figure out where we went wrong! And that conference is at twelve!"

"Well, you won't figure it out panicking and running in aimless circles. Get home and clean yourself up. Grab something to eat and then you'll feel much better, just you see."

"But I don't have TIME!" Quatre whined.

"Well, at least you'll be doing something useful with it rather than frittering it away in panic! Be off with you!"

Quatre looked at her in child-like despair. Then grabbed his coat from that corner and sagged out of the room in defeat. He couldn't fix ithe couldn't solve it. He, a gundam pilot and strategist, couldn't figure out how and where and if his company had gone wrong or what to do about it. What if he was just a stupid, inexperienced preppy boy like everyone said. Maybe they were all right

He just didn't know any more, he didn't know anything any more. Quatre slunked up to the schedule in the subway station fifteen blocks away (he didn't feel like going on the bushe just felt like walking, and walking) to see a subway would be coming by in fifteen minutes, so he collapsed into a nearby bench and let his mind wander. It wasn't fairif he hadn't let himself get distracted, none of this would have ever happened. It was her faultDorothy's. If she had stayed out of his life, then everything would have been fine. He wouldn't have been distracted and then he would have made better decisionsARGGG! IT WAS ALL THAT STUPID WOMAN'S FAULT! Why did he still have this, this, this, obsession with her? He didn't get it. 

The sun shone down brightly, blinding her as she sped along the highway. It was a bright clear day, but she was not in the mood for it. She glanced at her car-clock for the fiftieth time and pumped the gas pedal. She was going to be late for her job interviewjust great, juuust peachy Then there was a loud crunch as a semi-truck sped by and the car sputtered and the engine halted. Her eyes grew large as cantaloupes. Nothis wasn't happening!

Because she had been going so fast, luckily, she was able to coast to the side of the road and then continue on until she stopped, all the while seething with anger and frustration. 

When the car finally stopped, she looked up at the highway's sign"Winner Corporations --Next Right." Her large eyes filled with tears. "NO!! NO, NO, NO!!" She pounded on the steering wheel. It was a well known fact that the Winner Corp. Was a difficult place to gain employment, but one with great benefits and salaries, and the CEO was enthusiastic and creative. It would be a great place to work, never mind the prestigeand she actually had an interview, and now she was stuck, on the side of the rode, next to a stupid subway station! 

She flung open the car door and stalked over to the back wheels. She stood there and breathed in slowly, then exhaled, in a vain attempt to regain control over herself. Then she screamed and kicked the hubcap as hard as she could–not smart in dress shoes.

"Owe, owe...dangit! That HURT!" she yelled, hopping around, holding her injured toe.

"Uhyou need some help there, ma'am?" a skeptical voice, tinged with laughter inquired. 

"Oh, no. I'm just great! I'm just where I wanted to be, stranded, on the side of the road, in one of the busiest colonies this side of the moon. Oh, I'm perfectly fine," she glared as she turned to meet a very large, muscular man–did she mention handsome?

"Wellmaybe there is something I could do to help...ya' knowgive ya a lift or sumthin'."

She was about to take him up on the offer when she looked behind him to see a light blue and very rusty four by four truck on tires that held it about six feet from the ground. There was a window decal on the windshield that said "Born to be Wild." Ooooon second thought, she wouldn't trust a guy like this with her ferns. There was no way she was getting into that with a complete strangerespecially one with biceps as large as she was wide. No way, not on thiscolony.

"Uh, well, it would probably be better if I could figure out what's wrong with my caras I kind of need it. Um, you don't happen to know anything about fixing"

"Sure!" he said enthusiastically. "Can I have your keys?" What the heck, she thought. What was he going to do? Push her car away? 

"My name is Billy, by the way." He grinned toothily at her.

"That's nice," she forced herself to smile. 

He plopped into the seat. "Where were you headin' ta?" he asked from behind 

the steering wheel, yelling over the sputtering starter.

"Nowhere," she gritted back. "Does it matter?" she muttered angrily. And what in the heck was this man doing? She began to stomp in impatient circles as he popped up the hood and fiddled with this and that, bending over obviously.

"Well, it could be the carburetor, or the ol' or the"

But she cut him off. "Listen, I really think it's sweet of you to try and help, but I think I'll just try to call someone–or walk. It's probably ONLY fifteen blocks away. Thanks a lot," she said impatiently, pulling her keys out of her car, locking the car, and shutting the hood, then stalked off to the subway station.

She found a pay phone and flipped through the phone book in search of the auto-section. As she listened to the dialing, she sagged against the glass side, and let her eyes wander. It was a typical stationthe benches lining the walls, crowded cafes, the ticket stationsshe glanced over to see a particularly worn looking man collapsed onto a bench just on the other side of the glass against the wall facing her. His blond hair was matted and dull, probably hadn't had a shower in days. His beard was straggly and clothes rumpled. He looked like a druggie with the bags under his eyesa druggie in a designer suit

Loud breathing behind her jilted her out of her observations. "Billy? *What* are you doing?" she asked, exasperated.

"I jus' wanted to make sure that you had everythang under control," the large man said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Jittery thang, ain't cha? Someone follow'n ya?"

"No one besides you. And I'm fine. Don't you need to be somewhere?"

"I'm right where I need to be"

"Oh, don't even try" she said, disgusted at his horrendous attempt at a pick-up. But then a gruff voice answered the phone. 

"'ello."

"Hi, I need some assistance with my car. I've broken down on"

But he cut her off. "Did you try turning the key, ma'am?"

"I beg your pardon? Of course I tried turning the key! What do you think I am? Some bimbooh that's right, all you car guys' think girls are idiots without a strain of sense in their heads." She slammed down the receiver, nearly cracking the plastic. She turned and kicked the glass–it was a little more forgiving than the hubcap, so she kicked it over and over until she punched it and collapsed to the floor. This was not her dayfirst, she had woken up late, then the dry-cleaner wasn't finished with her suit yet, then she couldn't find her file, then she realized that she had the interview at ten thirty, not one o'clock and then

"You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay. Any more brilliant questions?" she asked sarcastically. Why was she being such an old bathe was just being nice, and trying to get laid while he was at itshe grumbled inwardly.

"Excuse me," a quiet tenor asked politely. She looked up at the voice and was startled to see the druggie looking down kindly at her. He had really big blue eyes "I couldn't help but over-hear about your car trouble. I may be able to help. I've got to catch my train in about ten minutes, but I could try to help. I know a fair amount of mechanics" he trailed off timidly.

"Hey, I'm all the help she needs," Billy said proudly pulling himself up to his full and considerable height.

But the blond man didn't see phased. "What the heckwhat can it hurt?" she muttered. "It would be nice of you to see if there is anything you can do," she said with forced politeness.

He nodded, and she started to push herself up when he extended a hand down to her. She was startled by his kind, gentlemanly gesture and took his hand. Billy didn't look too pleased, much to her satisfaction. She hoped he wouldn't try to start a fight over it–this guy looked like he would blow away.

The trio walked out to the car and the blond man took the keys from her extended hand. The car made a strange crunching noise as he attempted to start it, and his face crinkled in concentration. Then his eyes drooped and his head sagged, but he shook himself and snapped upward. "Are you okay?" she asked warily. Maybe he was high or something

"I'm fine," he smiled brightly. "I just need some sleepbeen in the office too long."

She shrugged uncertainly. "Okay" 

"Here," he said, climbing out of the car. "Sit in the driver's seat and try to start it. I'm going to see if I can hear anything." She nodded and climbed in, watching as he bent over the front end, ear down. His face contorted in confusion. Then he stopped. "Pop the hood, please," he requested.

The man had to be the most polite she had ever encounteredhe said please when he was helping HER. She got out and watched over his shoulder as he fiddled with various things she had no clue about. She could also feel Billy breathing heavily behind them. He didn't look too happy.

Then the blond took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. "Would you hold this for a minute?" he asked her, holding out the coat. She took it and watched as he pulled a large knife from his pocket, flipping out a wrench-type extension. He fiddled around, opening one compartment. He was elbow deep, reaching in, when suddenly he smiled. "I found your problem," he said.

"What?"

Billy snorted in disbelief.

The blond man withdrew his arm and held out a strange twisted piece of metal, about the size of his thumb. "It's one of nuts off of a semi. Probably worked it's way off and onto the road, and you ran over it, kicking up into the starter. Let me put this back together and see if the car starts."

She waited as he replaced the parts of her vehicle and climbed back into the driver's seat. The car turned over and started. The man's mouth broke into a huge grin. "All fixed!" Then he glanced down at the clock. "Oh crapI gotta go. Here" He turned off the car, dropped the keys into her outstretched hand, jumped out of the car and dashed to the subway.

"UmTHANKS!" she yelled out.

"YOU ARE MOST WELCOME!" the strange man yelled back.

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?" she called.

"SORRY, I'M GOING TO MISS MY TRAIN!" and he was gone.

Quatre sprinted into the station and popped his ticket into the booth and dashed onto train and flopped into a seat. He banged his head against the back wall and slumped into the seat.he was exhausted!

He was only on the train for fifteen minutes when it came to his station and stopped. He bounded off, speed walking down the street into a smaller, average, suburbia neighborhood. He hated the mansionit felt empty with all of his sisters in one place or another, but most people believed he lived there. So he occupied one of his smaller condos, living on his own. He even shopped and cleaned himself. Quatre was very busy, but after work, it was still lonely and the Maganacs still treated him as a master. He hated that, so now he was on his own, and it felt great. 

Quatre pulled his key from his pocket and unlocked his condo, sighing in relief as ran up the stairs and to the shower.

It was only after he climbed out, toweling his hair so he wouldn't drip on the carpet, that he remembered he had forgotten his coat

Somewhat stunned, she turned to her car, barely acknowledging Billy, and got in, speeding toward her job interview. She would worry about the coat later, she thought as she parked and grabbed her portfolio, quickly covering the steps and advancing into the main office. A woman with a tight brown bun in a blue skirt-suit looked up as she stood at the desk. "I'm here for an interview with Mr. Mathers. Would you please tell him I'm here?"

The woman clicked some things on her computer and asked, "Your name, please?"

"Rowena McCourt."

The woman read–"Ten thirty?" Rowena nodded. "You're ten minutes late and Mr. Mathers despises tardiness, but I'll call him anyway," she said as if Rowena should be groveling at her feet. 

"Thank you," she forced out.

While the woman busied herself with the call, she took a good look around the lobby. There were plush navy couches along the walls, tall windows allowing light to flood the room. Coffee tables had magazines neatly stacked and lamp unlit–high ceilings and the "natural" light created an air of openness and comfort. 

Rowena looked down at her own shabby dress shoes and her worn leather portfolio. Who was she kidding, trying to get a job in a classy place like this? She was a little nobody, scraping her way through college on a nondescript colony nobody had ever heard of. After living on next to nothing for seven years, getting her masters in business, here she was–inexperienced, shy, nothing but a cheap back-woods girl. And this Mr. Mathers would probably see through her within two seconds. What happened to all of her confidence she had had last night when she went over her past work–and it was impressive. She had done advertising for a local insurance agency for a class and the ads she had were nice, and she even though her college was virtually unknown, several of her professors were, maybe the Mathers even knew a couple of them

A sharp voice interrupted her thoughts. "He said for you to go one up. Fourth floor, turn right and there'll be a desk. His personal secretary will inform him of your arrival." She sounded a little surprised that Mr. Mathers was admitting her.

Rowena followed the woman's instructions and was now sitting patiently, as she had beenfor an hour. Under normal circumstances, she would have stormed up to the desk and demanded that either he see her right then or she would have to get another appointment, but considering that she already had one black mark against herself, she remained quiet.

Then a kind voice called to her. She jumped up and walked over to the desk. "Can he see me now?" she asked, hopefully.

"Not yet. But everyone is going out for lunch, so maybe you should get something to eat and come back after," the lady suggested–a little too kindly in Rowena's opinion.

Rowena nodded numbly and walked demurely out of the room.

She found a little sandwich stand on the side of the road not too far from the skyscrapers of the corporation and concentrated on her food. She was wearing thin

Quatre stood in the back of the conference room listening to his media advisor tell him what to say and what not to say as he straightened his tie. The shower had helped to revive him, but he was still a little slow witted. And he had to figure this out.

"Mr. Winner, you're on in five," a cameraman told him from the side. Quatre nodded and tried to focus.

"Now, remember, apologize to the people and tell them that you are still looking into this and will have a solution soon. That's all you need to say. Look confident, look happy and"

"Tony, thank you. I think I've got it" Quatre said quietly, brushing the man off and turning to the podium, trying to gather his wits and courage. Suddenly, the spokesman for ESS was at the podium, speaking clearly to the flashing cameras and scribbling pens.

Quatre hardly heard what was being said by his accuser, but it wouldn't matter that much anyway–what could he say? I screwed up, sorry. I'm trying to fix it, so please be patient. Don't drink the water and try not to breathe too much.' It was hopeless.

"And now, maybe CEO Quatre Winner can explain himself" he heard the man say condescendingly.

Camera's flashed, blinding him temporarily as he walked unsteadily up to the podium. He tried to keep his back straight as he look over the audience, and knowing full well that many people were in their homes, waiting for his words. Clearing his throat nervously, Quatre opened his mouth, hardly noticing what he was saying, just letting the words flow. He didn't know what he was doing; he was running on instinct now.

"First of all, I would like to apologize for this entire affair. Yes, it is hurting business, but more importantly to me, it is hurting the inhabitants of this colony–many of which are employees of Winner Corporations, might I note. Our company runs tests on a regular basis, once every month, in random locations to ensure quality water and air. Our equipment is tested and improved upon continually. We want everyone to be safe and well. We are not attempting to monopolize the cosmos as many are apt to believe, nor are we hoarding profits from high prices. 

"I must confess, that at this time, we have not yet determined the source of thisimperfection and weakness, however, we are working on it, if not for business, but for our own homes and families who must also use the products. I realize that this is an unsatisfactory response, however, it is the truth, and you, the public, deserve nothing less. We did and do test our product, and it seems, from our own testing, that the water-affected areas are only on the northwest corner of the colony and we are working to remedy the situation and devise new ways to prevent any similar situations from occurring. Air is being filtered as we speak. That is all. Thank you," he finished lamely.

As he stepped down, his media manager stared at him, open eyed and drop mouthed. Quatre wasn't sure if he should interpret that as good or bad.

Rowena walked back to the building with renewed false confidence. When she got to Mr. Mathers office, the secretary was goneeveryone seemed to have vanished. She was sure what to do, but then she heard some yelling and hurriedly followed the noise to a spacious office. A large balding man with mayonnaise on his mustache was cheering loudly at a television set in the corner and munching on a large sandwich.

She coughed softly to catch his attention. "Huh?" he said indistinctly through the bread and meat and cheese as his head snapped over to her. "Can I help you?" he asked thickly.

"I, um, just heard some yelling, so I wanted to see if everything's all right."

"All right?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You bet everything's all right! And do ya know why? Because our CEO is brilliant, that's why!" Then he followed up his comments with a "GO QUATRE!!! WHO-HOO!!"

Rowena tried to keep a straight face as she watched that excited man. "Where do you work, any how?" he asked. "I don't remember seeing you around here."

"Oh, I don't work here. I'm here for a job interview."

"Job interview?" he asked, looking confused. "I don't remember having any interviews today. What's your name?"

"Rowena McCourt. I was scheduled for ten thirty," she said meekly.

"TEN THIRTY!!" he sprayed. "You've been waiting around two and a half hours to talk to me?" his voice cracked.

"Well, I don't know if it's to speak to youare you Mr. Mathers?"

"Call me Matt," he told her as he stood up and offered his hand to shake.

"Hi," she said timidly shaking the large appendage. "It's nice to meet you."

"So, where did you go to school, Ms. McCourt?" he asked. "Here, have a seat" he said as a side note, pulling a chair over for her after dumping piles of papers out of it and clicking off the TV.

"It was Collier West-Side Universityuh, would you like to see my portfolio?" she asked in confusion.

"Nahpeople have time to prepare those and make them look impressivenot a very good way to determine how good a person will be. What did you study?"

"Well, I majored in business management and"

"No, no. That's not what I asked," he said, settling his large frame into his maroon chair. "What did you study? What other things did you attempt to major in. Obviously you did business as you are applying for a job in that area, but what else?"

She was surprised by his question, but firmed herself up and rambled an answer. "Well, I initially started in pre-med. because I liked helping people, but I didn't like chemistry, so I tried teachingbut that didn't work either. So I tried literatureEnglish, mostly mythology. It was interesting, but all that I could do with it would be teaching and I had already found out that that didn't work for me, and then a friend suggested business, and it just kind ofclicked," she finished her short tirade. "Is that what you wanted?"

"Good for me." He wasn't looking at her, but fishing through his overly stuffed desk. "You ever play a musical instrument or play any sports?"

"UhI play the piano and I like to play soccer, but I stink at it. What exactly does that have to do with getting a job, if I might ask, Mr. Mathers"

"Plenty, plenty" he muttered as he pulled out a manila file folder and plopped it on his desk. "What do you think of the corporation so far, Ms. McCourt?"

Oh boythis was a baaaad questionwhat was the right answer? "Well, it is obviously a nice, secure place with people who care about their jobsand uh" She stopped when he snorted. "But quite frankly" she started to get a little bolder. "I think the secretaries are aristocratic snoots and if the important jobs were run by them, the entire corporation would fall into shambles." Oh dearwhat did she just get herself into this time

"Well, now you understand what Quatre Winner was dealing with when he came seven years ago and got this place up and running!" he smiled genially at her. "And coincidentally, I agree."

Rowena raised an eyebrow. 

"What?" Mr. Mathers asked bluntly.

"I was justpicturing what this place must have been like seven years ago"

The large man smiled. "Now you know why I was saying Quatre is brilliant, besides the fact that he just saved the company for the fiftieth time by NOT listening to that moronic consultant we have for the media. Tell me, do you like golf?"

"No, I think it's the stupidest sport known to man. No, it's a game, sorry. It's just for fat old men who have nothing better to do with their money than to waste pretty green land."

Mr. Mathers burst out laughing. "You don't have any problems speaking your mind, do you? Ho boyyou would certainly spark up the office"

"Well, I don't see the point in giving you canned answers. I have no chance of getting a job here, so why bother pretending. I thought I might see how high I can get your eyebrows to go before the fall off."

Mr. Mathers snorted some more. "Oh boyOkay girl, you got it. You got it."

"I got what?" she asked, perplexed. 

"The job. Here, I just found a copy of the contract. Read it over, tell me if that sounds good for you"

Rowena numbly reached across the desk to pick up the contracts and proceeded to read it carefully. At the end, she made a face, trying to decide what to do. Mr. Mathers obviously wanted an answer right now, but it was customary that the prospective employee take home the contract and come back the next daythe problem with that is that he might forget her by then. She wasn't sure if she was reading it right, because it sounded like she was getting full benefits and a starting salary equal to the entire cost of all her education–from kindergarten through college and her masters.

"What? Money not good enough? You got better offers?"

"WellIt's just that I" she trailed off, trying to decide what to do.

"Listen, we can move it up ten thousand if that would be better. You're goodI can see that. Straight head, common sense, no clouds up there. You'd be good and we need good people right now" he took the paper from her hand and scribbled out the salary, rewriting it in with the addition.

"Wellit sounds good to me"

"Great! You can start next month. Well get your office ready and set you all up. How's that sound?" he looked at her for a reaction but before she could answer, he smacked himself in the head. "Oh, silly me! I almost forgot! Here's the card for a real-estate agent. She's really good and doesn't' try to give you crap you don't wantthe company pays for your moving expenses and the down payment on your home."

"Thank you!" she said, wide eyed. 

"Thank you! I think this has been the shortest interview I've ever had! See you at the beginning of the month! I'll have my aristocratic snoot call you with more detailsas soon as I find your résumé." He winked at her as he ushered her to the door.

"Thank youhow did you decide to hire me so quickly?"

"Oh, a little psychology Quatre taught me!" he said amiably. 

Ten minutes later, Rowena was driving to her run down apartment in shock. She got the jobshe got the job

She parked the car and climbed outthen she saw the suit coat in the passenger seat. Curiously, she picked it up and examined the pockets. The left pocket was empty, but the right one had a plastic ID card. It was obviously older as most of the writing had rubbed off, but it still had the imprinted computer chip, she guessed, so it was still usablebut she recognized the logo in the cornerthe Winner Corporation logo

Quarter sighed as he plopped down on his couch. He was exhausted and didn't even have the energy to get changed and climb into bed, so, logically, he didn't and was going to stay on the couch.

He rolled over and buried his face into the soft leather, welcoming sleep. Then, oddly enough, the image of the thin brunette with large brown eyes he had helped earlier strolled into his mind. That was oddhe thought. Why was he suddenly thinking of her

But then blissful sleep advanced to take over his mind. The last thought before he fell into an oblivion was that he was taking three days off of work and letting the department heads handle this messhe couldn't think clear enough to do any good anyway

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A/N So.what do you think so far? This is another attempt at a romance.I'm hoping it will be better than my other ones.please review!!! I need opinions!!!

Blood Bonds people, I promise that I'm still working on the story, but this one just won't get out of my head. It's not the long AU that I was thinking of [obviously], but that one is still forming itself too. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review me. Any questions, comments, and outbursts are welcome. 

Toodles for now, Tygerlilee =^,^=


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